


Aramis' Betrayal

by Evechan90



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evechan90/pseuds/Evechan90
Summary: After trying to hide the secret that The Dauphin is the actual son of Aramis and the Queen, Rochefort finds out and confronts the musketeer Aramis. As a trial against the Queen and Aramis is being set up by Rochefort, Aramis must find a way to make sure the Queen and The Dauphin stay unharmed. It will take a great sacrifice and some hard decisions. Including swordfights and whump, emotional hurt/ comfort, physical abuse (mostly on Aramis)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1: The confession

_This story is loosely based on the season 2 episodes 9 and 10 from the BBC series The Musketeers._

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used in this story._

_To get you started:_  
_A quick summary. About a year ago, Aramis and Anne (the queen of France), were trapped in a convent. Seeking comfort, they spend a night together, and afterwards became involved. Athos is the only one who knows of the two being intimate. A year later, the queen bore a son, The Dauphin, who is the sole heir of the throne of France. The Dauphin is actually Aramis's son, but for their safety they decided it would be better if no one knows. The following story takes place a year after the event in the convent._

* * *

**Chapter 1: The confession**

Twilight was setting in as Aramis walked down an alley near the garrison. It was a hot summers day and people had kept their windows and doors closed, to keep the heat out and the coolness in. The alley was empty, in the distance one could hear a baby cry, and a mother calming it. Aramis couldn't help but smile, thinking of The Dauphin, who he had just seen in the palace. A fatherly feeling overtook him, and for a moment he felt the warmth of proudness in his body. He knew he was wrong for becoming intimate with Lady Marguerite, the governess of The Dauphin, but it seemed to him the only possible way to, now and then, see his son.

As he took a turn, a hand suddenly grabbed him and ferociously pulled him with his back against a wall. Immediately he took a small knife from his doublet and pointed it in the direction of the assailant. As he looked at him, he immediately recognized his adversary. It was Rochefort. His gloved hand held a firm grip on Aramis's throat, making it hard to breath.  
'You haven't been careful, have you?' Rochefort uttered, looking fiercely in Aramis's eyes.  
Aramis pushed the knife a bit further against Rocheforts side, but was held back by the strong arm of Rochefort.  
'What do you want?' Aramis asked, finding it hard to let out words.  
Rochefort moved his head closer to Aramis, his lips nearly touched Aramis's ear, when he whispered: 'I know'.  
Those two words felt like a knife pushed straight into his stomach. He felt sick, and couldn't find a way to react. He dropped the knife he held on the ground. Rochefort, feeling content about Aramis's reaction, showed a small grin on his countenance. He felt he had done enough for now, and abruptly let go of the musketeer. He gave him one last look and disappeared in the shadows of the street, leaving Aramis stunned leaning against the wall.

A few moments passed without Aramis being able to move. If Rochefort meant what he thought he meant, he was doomed. And not just that, he had failed in protecting the queen and his son. His selfishness would cost them their lives. There was only one thing he could do now. He had to confide in Athos about this. He would know what to do.

With a quick pace he hurried to the garrison, where some of the musketeers were sitting in the courtyard, eating their dinner. He looked for Athos, and found him sitting with D'Artagnan and Porthos on a table. They were laughing about something as he approached the table. Porthos looked up at him and, while drinking some wine, pointed to a place on the bench next to him.  
'Come, eat with us Aramis. And tell us where you've been, we've been looking for you.' D'Artagnan said to him.  
'No thanks.' Aramis replied while tapping Athos on the shoulder.  
'What is it?' Athos asked, looking worriedly at his friend.  
'Can we have word?' Aramis gave Athos a familiar glare. He knew Athos would understand.  
'Sure.' Athos said, as he put down his mug and stood up from the table. 'we'll just be a minute' he commented to his two other friends. 'leave some wine for me!'.

Athos followed Aramis to a quiet place in the courtyard, somewhere no-one could see them talk.  
'What is it?' Athos remarked again, looking even more worried at his friend.  
Aramis stammered, trying to find the courage to tell Athos about the events just now.  
'Rochefort…' Aramis started 'he knows…'. He dared not to look Athos in the eyes.  
Athos immediately grabbed Aramis's arms and pulled him closer. 'He knows, what!?'  
Aramis looked Athos in the eyes, seeing his worried face made it even harder to talk to him, and he just uttered 'he knows Athos, he knows…'  
Athos looked at Aramis in disbelief, but seeing his dear friend this upset he immediately decided to take action. Giving Aramis a strict glare he started: 'You have to tell them. You made this mess, you tell them, now.'  
Aramis, in shock of Athos' reaction, searched for Athos's eyes, begging him not to make him do this. But there was no point.

'Hey, you two! There's not much wine left!' Porthos yelled from behind them, interrupting the two friends in their conversation. Athos put his hand on Aramis's shoulder trying to give him some confidence to tell his friends about his betrayal. Since Aramis didn't seem to take any action, Athos took over and walked to Porthos and D'Artagnan. Both looked up at Athos, and seeing his serious look, they stood up. Athos didn't have to say anything for all them to follow him to one of the chambers in the garrison. Aramis entering lastly, glaring down at his feet in disgrace.  
'What's going on Athos?' D'Artagnan started, looking from Aramis to Athos in confusion. But Athos didn't answer the question and just replied with: 'Stay here, I'll be right back.' As he walked out and closed the door behind him Porthos walked up to Aramis.  
'Aramis?' He said, with a tone of worry in his voice.  
Aramis still looking down, not daring to look his friends in the eyes, had found a spot in the corner of the room, leaning against the walls. He had never felt like this before in his life. Not knowing how they would react to the news, Aramis was afraid to lose everything he had. His friends, most of all, but also his son, and Anne.  
Suddenly the door opened, and Athos came in. Behind him Treville followed inside. As soon as Aramis saw Treville coming through the door, he realized that this was serious.

'Okay, so what is going on here?' Treville asked, in his demanding manner. He looked from one to the other, but no one could answer.  
Athos and Aramis shared a glare, to which Treville reacted in surprise. 'Athos! Say something.'  
Checking the door and windows for a second time, Athos replied to his superior.  
'Aramis, has something to confess to us all.'  
A moment of silence passed as all eyes were on Aramis. He could feel them piercing through his heart. Feeling sick to his stomach, he wasn't able to utter a word. A moment, he felt angry towards Athos, making him confess his deepest secret. He gave him one more glare, begging him not to make him do this. But Athos was resolute. And without any delay he announced: 'Aramis has been sleeping with the queen'.  
Those words hit Aramis like a grenade, exploding in his stomach. Suddenly all eyes were on him again. No one really knew what to say. There was an air of confusion and anger. But none of them dared to speak their mind. And just as they seemed to calm themselves and try to find the words to say. Athos started: 'There's more.' He looked at Aramis, he knew it was hard for him, but he forced Aramis to speak. Aramis looked back at Athos in anger. Was he really going to make him confess it all? Aramis knew he could not back down now. He had to own his mistakes. He opened his mouth as to try to speak, but couldn't find the words. After a fierce look from Athos, he finally found the courage to talk, though almost inaudible and as quick as possible.  
'The Dauphin might be my son.' Aramis uttered. As he gave a quick glance at his friends, and saw their confusion he added 'IS, he is my son'.

Than in a moment of anger, Porthos suddenly came up to him and pushed him into the wall, choking Aramis with his bare hands. Quickly Athos and D'Artagnan interfered and pulled Porthos away from Aramis, who sank to the ground, in shame. While coughing, he reached for his neck, which had now for a second time been harmed.  
Treville was the first to break the silence. 'My God, Aramis!'  
But before Treville couldn't finish what he wanted to say, as Athos interrupted.  
'There's still more.' Athos paused. 'Rochefort knows.'  
Another silence passed. Which hurt Aramis even more than the hands of his friend around his neck.  
'You know what that means, don't you Aramis? You condemned yourself for treason!' D'Artagnan yelled. Aramis saw he was afraid for him.  
'You brought the queen in grave danger! And the Dauphin!' Porthos added.  
D'Artagnan walked up to Aramis and kneeled before him, making eye contact. He looked at his friend with heartfelt sympathy and sorrow. 'Aramis, you'll be hanged!'  
Aramis couldn't take it anymore and in a confused state became angry and stood up, pushing D'Artagnan aside. 'What do you want me to say!' He shouted at his friends. 'I can't undo what I've done! What do you want me to do?!'  
No one answered.

Treville who had stayed silent all the while, made up his mind. As he walked towards Aramis he ordered: 'Aramis, turn around and put your hands against the wall'.  
'What!?' Aramis replied in confusion. He looked at Athos, who looked back at him with pity. Treville closed in on Aramis and gently forced the musketeer to turn around and put his hands up against the wall. He felt like a criminal, but then again, he had committed treason.  
Treville took away Aramis's weapons, and gave them to Athos. Porthos and D'Artagnan stood stunned by the event. Then Treville moved his hand towards Aramis's shoulder, and started to untie his musketeers shoulderpiece. Aramis immediately knew what it meant, he was going to be banished from the musketeers. He felt a heavy weight on his shoulders and hung his head in defeat.

'Athos, escort Aramis to a room without a window. And lock the door.' Treville ordered.  
'No, wait! Please!' Aramis protested.  
'I'm sorry Aramis, it's for your own safety. If Rochefort knows about you and the queen, he will turn Paris upside down to find you. He will force a confession from you, and that will condemn the queen and The Dauphin. We cannot let that happen. Please, follow my orders, and let us do our job. We will find a way to make this right. I promise. But for now, this is the only way.' Treville replied, as he gave orders to Athos.  
Aramis knew there was nothing he could do or say to make Treville change his mind. Therefore he obediently followed Athos to a connected room.  
No one knew what to say. Instead they all stood and watched in silence how Athos locked Aramis in the room. Before closing the door, Aramis walked up to Athos, looking at him with shame.  
'I'm sorry.' Athos replied as he gave Aramis on last look before he finally shut the door.

Aramis fell to the floor as he heard the lock of the door. He felt incompetent, shameful and disgraced. The footsteps and voices of his friends slowly disappeared from the room next to him. Could he still trust them? Was it still, all for one, and one for all?  
Pulling himself up on the only bed in the room, he laid down on it and sighed. How the hell did he get himself in this mess?

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_Hope you liked it! please leave a review._


	2. Chapter 2: Imprisonment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being locked in a room, Aramis tries to fight out his way.  
> Swordfights | Hurt | torture

_Hey all, thank you for sticking with me on this story. It's been quite a while since I've been writing like this, in English also, so I may make some grammar or spelling misstakes here and there, and my writing style me change a bit overtime. I hope you forigve me for this. If you have any suggestions I'd be happy to read them in the comments. :)_

_Next up: Some swashbuckling and mental torture (a bit)._

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**Chapter 2: Imprisonment**

What time was it? Aramis couldn't tell how long he had been asleep. The room he was in was dark, the only light coming from underneath the door. It seemed like sunlight, it definitely wasn't candle light, so it must be daytime already, he thought. As he sat up in bed, he felt his back was cold and wet. He had been sweating in his sleep. Then he recalled the nightmares he had. He dreamed he saw Anne hanged, his friends next in line for hiding him in the garrison. Shaking off the weary thoughts he looked at the door. Maybe it was left open? There was only one way to find out.

He stood up from the bed and walked towards the door, grabbing the handle. He pushed it down but it didn't give in. It was still locked. Frustrated he turned around. Walking back to his bed he suddenly heard noises in the room next to him. He quickly turned around and saw a distinct shadow in front of the door. A key was placed in the lock and the handle pulled down.

'It's about time!' Aramis outed as the door swung open. An unrecognizable silhouette stood in the door. Aramis clenched his eyes, trying to see who it was. As the person stepped towards him his eyes shut wide open. It was a red guard. He stepped back trying to hide in the shadows of the room, but the piercing eyes of the guard had caught sight of him. There was a moment in which Aramis hoped that he'd leave him be, but hope is fragile, and broke immediately as the guard yelled for his comrades.

In panic Aramis looked for something to fight them off with, but only found an old broom. As this was his only option he took it and positioned himself for defense, the broom as a substitute for his sword pointing at the man.

As more guards came running to the room Aramis yelled in anger: 'Come on then!'.  
In response, the first guard stepped inside the room. _'Good'_ thought Aramis _'if I can hold them off one by one, I might have a chance of escape'_. The Guard drew his sword and pointed it at Aramis. As the broom would probably be cut in half if he used it to parry, he decided to attack first. He took two quick steps towards his adversary, barely dodging a lunge from the sword of the other. Using the tip of the broom, he pushed it straight into the neck of the guard, bashing him against the opposite wall. _'One down'_ Aramis thought while pushing towards the exit. Another guard came forward, blocking the door. Using his elbow Aramis pushed the guard hard in his chest, forcing him to fall back. Finally he could move out of the room.

Moving out of the room gave him hope of escape, but it also made fighting harder since the other five guards quickly moved towards him, circling around. With drawn swords each of them lunged towards Aramis, who parried the first couple hits. Then a burning ache scratched his leg. A guard behind him had successfully lunged and hit the musketeer, leaving a small trail of blood on his leg and floor. Aramis quickly turned around and tried to block another hit from the guard. The sword landed with great force on the broom Aramis was holding up with two hands, defending himself. But when a second slash from the guard hit the broom on the exact same spot it broke, and the sword cut right in Aramis's shoulder. He let out a subdued cry which evolved in a shout of anger.

Before he was even able to react, someone from behind grabbed him, disarming the musketeer. Trying to fight the guard off, he found the sharp tip of a sword against his throat. Not wanting to give up Aramis used the back of his arm to push the sword away, leaving a small scratch on his throat, and immediately threw his head back as hard as he could, hitting the man behind him with a heavy blow to his nose. As the grip on him loosened, he freed himself, turning around and pushing another guard away, trying to find a way out of the fight. As he stumbled towards the door another guard blocked the exit. Meanwhile one of the men had sneaked up behind him, hitting Aramis hard on the back of his head with a blow of the handle of his sword. Instantly Aramis fell to the floor, his sight growing dim and feeling his consciousness slipping away.

When he awoke and opened his eyes he found himself lying on the floor of a cold and damp cell. His hands were cuffed to the wall by a large chain. A small opening in the top of the wall let in some daylight, showing the bars and door on the other side of the cell. His head still hurt a lot. When slowly shifting his body he noticed an intense pain in his shoulder. Remembering the fight, he looked at wound, pressing his hand against it, trying to stop the bleeding. As he crawled onto his feet, he felt an aching sting in his leg. The wound where the blade of one of the guards had cut him was also still open and unattended. Though hurting, he stood up with great difficulty and walked around the room as far as he could. Stretching the chain he was almost able to touch the door with his hands. He looked to his right when the sound of a closing door echoed through the corridor next to his cell. Footsteps came closer. When the face of Rochefort appeared through the bars of the cell Aramis grunted in anger and pulled the chain as far as he could to get closer to Rochefort.

'You bastard!' Aramis shouted. But Rochefort ignored him, looking him satisfied in the eyes.  
'Are you going to torture me?' The musketeer asked.  
'No, Aramis,' Rochefort started, with a grin from ear to ear. 'I think you're already torturing yourself. And to be fair, that actually satisfies me quiet enough.' He paused, giving the musketeer a pleasing smile and added: 'for now'.  
Aramis swallowed, and took a step back, not wanting to give Rochefort the pleasure of seeing his reaction.

'Then what are you here for?' Aramis demanded.  
'I just wanted to give you a heads up. There will be a trial in just a few hours.' Rochefort replied, eagerly searching for some displeasure in the face of the musketeer.  
'A trial?' Aramis questioned, stepping towards Rochefort in concern.  
'Yes, a trial. So you can confess your sins.'  
'I don't know what you're talking about, my sins have nothing to do with the king or crown.' The musketeer replied, trying to hide his lies as best as he could.  
'Oh, but I think you know, and I think you know as well as I do that they do have to do with the king and crown. If you confess maybe I can arrange some mercy for you and the queen'. Rochefort explained calmly.

Suddenly Aramis stepped forward with great force, pushing his body against the gate where Rochefort was standing, trying to scare him off. But it only resulted in a loud chime of the metal. Rochefort didn't even blink.  
'You know nothing!' Aramis yelled, calling his bluff, looking furiously in Rocheforts eyes.  
In response Rochefort quickly reached his hand through the bars and grabbed Aramis' shoulder, pushing his thumb into the fresh wound.  
Aramis cried out in pain, pulling himself out of the grip of Rochefort, who was smiling at the result of his actions.  
'You have no proof!' Aramis started 'of any of your accusations.'  
'Proof!?' Rochefort replied. 'You'll find out soon enough.' He added shortly.

Aramis looked up at Rochefort, trying to find a sign of him lying. But it was hard to read the face of a man so cloaked in mystery and contempt.

'Just leave me in my prayers' Aramis said despondent, turning his back towards Rochefort. Hoping he would just leave him be. This intoxicating conversation cost him all the strength he had left.  
'Praying won't help you, Aramis. Your sins will be known to France, and you will pay dearly for them.' Rochefort felt this was a good time to leave the musketeer in thoughts. As he walked away, Aramis knelt down and put his hands together starting a prayer, asking for forgiveness.

"Almighty God, heavenly father: I am on my knees, laying my life out before You. So I ask now for Your forgiveness, For the wrongs that I have done, And the things that I have neglected. I ask for Your forgiveness."

As he repeated the words, trying to find some consolation in them, again and again the words of Rochefort echoed in his mind obscuring his prayer. If even praying was not going to help, than what was? He closed his eyes in despair.

After a while the sound of a door echoed once again, and footsteps came closer to his cell.  
'Is it time already?' Aramis asked, while standing up from the place where he had been kneeling for some time.  
'Aramis, it's me!' The voice commented.  
Aramis quickly turned around and immediately looked into the eyes of his dear friend Athos. Relieved to see his face, he walked towards him.  
'You look awful.' Athos noticed, glancing at Aramis' arm and neck.  
'Please bring me some good news.' Aramis insisted, ignoring Athos' comment about his physique.  
But Athos' face did not seem positive. The other noticed, and clenched his eyes in frustration.  
'There must be a way to get me out of here!' he yelled in vexation.  
Athos held up one hand, trying to calm the musketeer down.  
'I'm sorry my friend.' Athos started, hurt to see his friend like this.  
'No! no, no! You're not finishing that sentence!' Aramis interrupted in anger and disgust, pacing up and down his cell. 'I don't want to hear it!'  
Both stayed silent for a moment while Aramis was still nervously pacing, the only sound coming from the rattling of the chains on Aramis's arms.

'What about Treville?' Aramis proposed with some slight hope in his voice.  
'You know he cannot be involved in all this.' Athos answered politically.  
'Will you be there?' Aramis tried, finally standing still, looking his friend in the eyes with pain.  
'Will I be where?' Athos replied, gazing at Aramis in confusion.  
'The trial.' Aramis explained.  
'What trial?'  
'My trial! In a few moments, they will come and fetch me for it. At least that's what Rochefort said.'  
'Rochefort was here?' Athos asked puzzled.  
'Yes, he came to gloat. He said something about "proof", but I couldn't find out what it was.'  
'Proof?' Athos questioned, than gave a serious look at Aramis and added: 'is there any to find?'  
Aramis grew pale of anger.  
'My god, Athos, I don't know… I don't think so, I don't know what it could be, alright! Stop questioning me! I need you to get me out of here! And quick, before this trial.'  
'I can't Aramis! There are guards everywhere, Rochefort has this place locked up as if it were the Bastille itself! I'm sorry my friend, we are doing everything we can to try to get you out of here. We just found out ourselves about your capture. Treville was furious after he found out the room we put you in was empty. You made quite a mess while fighting off those guards. I see you got beat up pretty badly.'  
'It's nothing!' Aramis replied, giving a look at his shoulder, 'So there's no hope?' he added, glaring back in Athos' eyes.  
'There is always hope, Aramis. We just need some time.'  
'Well, I don't think I've got any left…' Aramis noted, leaning his body against the cell door, looking down in defeat. 'You know they'll hang me, no matter what I say.'  
'You don't know that…' Athos tried.  
'If I'm lucky they'll just hang me…' Aramis said while looking at Athos with a fake smile. His heart sank to his feet, this was really the end. If even Athos couldn't bring any good new, there was no hope left.

Aramis glanced down resting his eyes upon Athos' pistol. Being mindful of this, he shook off the thought and put his hand against his shoulder, trying to find some distraction in caring for his wound. But it didn't help, for a second time, his eyes latched onto the pistol on Athos' side.  
Athos noticed.  
'My friend…' Aramis started, 'what if….' He looked from the pistol to Athos' face. Athos didn't react and just looked back in pity.  
'I can't anymore Athos! Please!' Aramis begged, his eyes becoming red and watery. 'Just tell them I tried to grab you and you did it in defense! Please!'  
Being extremely moved by his friends request Athos swallowed, shaking his head.  
'Aramis, if you were killed right now, and if Rochefort does have some sort of proof, the queen and The Dauphin are damned. There is only one way I can see to save them.'  
'What!? What is it? I'd do anything Athos! Please!' Aramis beseeched.  
Athos looked away, not really wanting to answer Aramis.  
'Athos?'  
'If you want to save the queen, you must confess.' Athos began, leaving Aramis in a confused state. 'You must confess to them, that you forced yourself on the queen.' He added in pain.  
'What? You want me to confess to them that I raped the queen?! I did no such thing Athos! You know me!' Aramis replied in anger.  
'I know, I know… but, I think that it might be the only way, if there is really no other option left. Maybe there is no proof at all, and there won't be any reason left to sentence you. Then it won't be necessary. But if there is proof, Aramis, I can see no other option.'  
'Jesus Christ!' Aramis yelled, putting a frown on Athos' face for using the saviors name in vain. 'If I do that, I won't be just hanged, Athos! They will gut me! The whole of France will hate me, wanting my blood!'

The thought alone scared Aramis to the bone. He felt sick inside. Sliding with his back down the bars, he grabbed his stomach with both his arms.  
It was silent again for a moment. Aramis, sitting crouched down on the floor with his back against the bars, gazed with an empty look at the wall opposite of him. The words of his friend repeated in his mind.

'Aramis,' Athos started. But was interrupted by the yell of a guard, calling him to end the conversation and leave the prison. He looked down on Aramis in distress. He hated to leave his friend like this. But the guard was pressing. Athos rested one hand on the back of Aramis' shoulder. A lump formed in his throat, he didn't know what to say anymore. He couldn't comfort Aramis in any way, and now he had to leave his trusted friend alone to be eaten away by his thoughts.

As the guard called for a third time, Athos left and slowly walked away from the cell Aramis was in.  
As Aramis heard the footsteps of his friend leaving the room, he stood up in an instance.  
'Athos!' He shouted, hoping to get a last glimpse of his friends face. This might be the last time they would see each other, he thought.  
Athos turned around, looking back at Aramis.  
Aramis wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. Instead, he opened his mouth without speaking and gave a last painful look at Athos.  
'I know.' Athos replied, knowing what Aramis wanted to say. He gave a pitiful smile, turned around and continued walking away, disappearing in the darkness.

Keeping his eyes on the place where Athos had vanished in the darkness, Aramis stayed stunned in emotion for a moment. Was this really the end?

* * *

_Next chapter: - The Trial - will be updated soon!_

_Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think so far. Maybe you have some idea as to what will happen next in the story? I'm not going to spoil it for you, so sorry, you'll have to wait for the next chapter. Hopefully I can write it soon._


	3. Chapter 3: The trial

_Thank you for sticking with me so far. Now this chapter will be mostly following the events from episode 10, season 2. But there is a twist here! Please bear with me. :)_

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Trial**

Stepping into the so familiar room of the Louvre Aramis had been in for quite a few times when being directed by the King or Queen, he looked around seeing some familiar and unfamiliar faces. Some he had noticed walking around the palace, informing the King and his ministers, some he knew from past dealings for the crown. As he was placed in front of the table, guarded by men holding their pistols in his direction, he searched for a friendly face but was only met by the foul eyes of Rochefort, who had placed himself at the head of the table. There was some slight hope that his friends, or at least Treville would be present during his trial, but it was not the case. His heart shattered by the thought of being condemned by these men, without a friend to bear witness or maybe even trying to beg mercy for his life. A man behind him stepped up and untied his bounded hands. Aramis looked around the room, trying to find a way of escape if things got ugly. But the room was too heavily guarded, there was no escape possible, not this time.

The king and queen were not present, which somehow made him feel more at ease, not having the king and Anne as a witness for this trial. As he tried to relax, a priest came up to him, a bible in his hand. Aramis looked at it with anguish, only now realizing he would have to swear upon it while knowing he could only lie about the affairs. It hurt him to betray his belief like this.  
The priest held out the bible while speaking.  
'Do you swear to tell the truth, so help you god?'  
Aramis put his right hand on the bible, staring in front of him while saying 'I do'. He gulped.

Rochefort stood up from the table looking from Aramis to the men present in the room.  
'Gentlemen, we are here to establish if the queen has been infidel to the king with the accused, The musketeer Aramis.' He presented, pointing. All men at the table rested their eyes at Aramis. His heartbeat accelerated, making his chest pound up and down heavily, anger and despair building up in his body.  
'You are being accused, Aramis, of seducing the queen in the convent, fathering her child.' He continued. 'Do you confess?'  
Aramis, trying to control his breathing, looked up at Rochefort, giving him a hateful glare.  
'I confess' he started, grinning at Rochefort. Turning his eyes towards the men at the table, now looking deadly serious, he added: 'I confess knowing that Rochefort is a Spanish spy, trying to put a wedge between the king and queen, accusing innocent people, making them stand trial for something they did not do.' And as he turned his eyes back on Rochefort continued in anger: 'It is Rochefort who is the traitor, it is Rochefort who is the enemy, and Rochefort who should BE ON TRIAL!'  
The men at the table turned their eyes to Rochefort, who seemed, for a moment, displeased and anxious about this turn of events. A tall man with grey hair and beard, stood up from the table seriously looking at Aramis.  
'And, do you have any proof of this, musketeer?' He prompted, while the rest of the table was getting uneasy.  
'Of course he doesn't! He would say anything to safe his own skin.' Rochefort interrupted. But the grey-haired man kept his eyes on Aramis, demanding an answer. Aramis, however, did not know what to say, he had no proof, none whatsoever. His attempt was in vain.

As he stood quiet, the men at the table seemed more at ease, trusting Rochefort. The grey-haired man gave Aramis one final look, before sitting down next to the rest of his colleagues.  
'Can we go on now, with the reason we have all come together?' Rochefort demanded, sitting down, taking control back in his power. The men at the table nodded in affirmation one by one.  
'So you deny the charges?' Rochefort questioned, looking back at the musketeer.  
'I do' Aramis said resolute, feeling his heartbeat quicken again, trying not to look guilty.  
'A confession may have given you some mercy, instead you disgrace yourself by these outrages lies.' Rochefort paused, giving a look at a guard next to the door of the room. 'Bring in the witness!' he ordered.

The guard opened the door. Aramis turned his head, curiously as to who this witness might be. Another guard stepped into the room, behind him Aramis could recognize the silhouette of Lady Marguerite. As he looked upon her, his heart pounded in his throat, his face becoming pale in fear. So this was the "proof" Rochefort was talking about earlier. If she did talk, he was indeed doomed. A feeling of a sudden loss entered his mind, this he could not win. As he averted his eyes away from her, he saw Rocheforts pleased countenance, which shook him even more.

As she walked into the room, Aramis noticed a tear trickling down her cheek. He felt guilty, using her for his own purposes. He tried to look her in the eyes, hoping he would be able to show her some form of remorse. But she did not even try to look at Aramis at this point, only gazing down to the floor.

'Lady Marguerite, you have seen the musketeer Aramis together with the queen. How would you describe their relationship?' Rochefort started, glaring at her sternly, while placing one hand on the chair he was sitting on earlier, showing off his power. She glanced at Aramis, but as their eyes met, she quickly averted.  
'They were intimate.' She quietly said.  
'Please speak up, so everyone can hear you.' Rochefort replied.  
'They were intimate, as lovers.' She repeated with more force in her voice.  
Aramis swallowed in agony.

'But you, yourself, have also been a lover of the accused, is it not?' Rochefort continued.  
'I was.'  
'Could you tell us when the affair started between the two of you?'  
'Only after I had been promoted governess of The Dauphin.'

'Interesting.' Rochefort commented, 'Pray tell us; when he sought your company, were you always alone?' He stepped closer to Aramis and her.  
'Alone, but, with The Dauphin.' She uttered in pain. Not trying to let her emotions flow.  
Aramis felt his blood stirring in his veins like ice. If he only had something to cut with, he could've cut Rochefort's throat, there and then.

'So was it you, he really came to see? Or was it the boy?'  
'His thoughts were always with the child.' Lady Marguerite replied, slowly feeling more and more betrayed by the musketeer.  
'And why was that?' Rochefort demanded.  
Lady Marguerite paused as she looked into Aramis's eyes, this time with anger and disgust. It felt like a knife went straight through his heart, as he looked back at her, trying to beg her not to reply to this last question. But it was no use. As another tear trickled down her face she stood adamant, facing Rochefort.  
'Because The Dauphin is his son!' She outed, followed by more tears. She was captured by the guards standing aside of her while she fell to the floor. They held her up and helped her out of the room.

Aramis did his best to keep calm, but he slowly felt his knees were giving up, he could barely stand on his feet. Rochefort suddenly turned towards him with a smug look on his face.  
'You have deceived the court, and worse, you have betrayed the king. The man you have sworn to serve. You could have confessed, and perhaps save the queen, but you chose not to. Instead you have condemned the both of you and you will both be punished for your treason by the penalty of death.'

Stunned by these words, he stood quietly, gazing into nothingness, his eyes empty, breathing heavily in distress.  
'Take him back to his cell!' Rochefort ordered.  
But as two guards came beside Aramis, grabbing his arms, he regained focus, thinking of what Athos had told him.  
'Wait!' Aramis shouted, pulling his arms away from the guards, who were immediately backed up by other guards.  
'Wait! I want to confess!' He continued, as his arms were again in control by the guards.  
Rochefort, who had walked back to his chair, turned around, confused at the musketeers words.  
'I'm sure you understand, that it's a bit too late for that.' He said, while waving his hand towards the guards, as per saying they should continue to take him to his cell.  
'Please! Let me tell you the truth! Let me confess my sins!' Aramis yelled, while struggling with the guards. But Rochefort turned his back towards him.

Suddenly, the grey-haired man stood up from the table.  
'Halt! Let him speak! If he wants to confess his sins, he should be able to do so.' He said.  
The guards stopped, letting loose of Aramis.  
'Alright, alright. Speak.' Rochefort sighed, annoyed at the remark.

Not knowing how to start, Aramis stood dazed, trying to control his heartbeat and breathing, but not being able to.  
Rochefort, getting impatient, slapped his hand on the table.  
'Yes!?' He inquired angry.  
'I…' Aramis started, but he couldn't get the words over his lips. 'The queen is innocent.' He tried.  
Rochefort was ready to end this non-existing confession just when Aramis found the courage to speak.  
'The queen is innocent, because I…, I…,' Aramis swallowed, feeling sick inside, he could almost faint. 'because I forced myself on her.' He quickly added, not believing he was really saying this.  
Some of the men stood up, in shock of what they heard the musketeer say. Rochefort frowned at him, as Aramis returned a weak grin.

Rochefort took a moment before reacting.  
'Than you have condemned yourself to a worse faith than you already had.' He growled, walking up to Aramis. Behind him, the men at the table were in disdain, cursing at the musketeer, and wildly talking to each other.

Now standing face to face, Rochefort and Aramis glared into each other's eyes.  
'You will regret that.' Rochefort warned.  
'If by some miracle I get out of this, I swear, the last thing you'll see is my face while I put a knife in your cold black heart.' Aramis threatened, while his heart beat faster and faster.  
'Ah, luckily there are no miracles for you now anymore, in just a few moments you will be put to death, and it will be my face, smiling down on you, while you slowly die by a most gruesome manner.' The other replied, grinning excitedly at the musketeer. 'Take him away!' He shouted, while signaling with his hand to the guards.

Two guards came up on Aramis and grabbed his arms, binding his hands behind his back. The iron felt cold against his skin as the cuffs tightened around his wrists. Pulling him away, they dragged Aramis to the door.  
'ROCHEFORT!' Aramis protested, as he tried to force his way out of the hands of the guards. But one of the guards quickly moved towards him and stomped the back of his musket straight in the musketeers stomach. Aramis arched his back in agony, leaning forward in the arms of the guards. His knees weakening, he felt his body tremble in pain and despair. As he was ushered out of the room he received one final blow on his back, totally immobilizing his body, seeing the door slammed down in front of his face.

Fully relying on the strength of the guards holding him, he let himself rest in defeat, closing his eyes, letting his mind wander.  
Wondering what would happen to him…

* * *

_Hope you liked that. :) Next chapter will be updated soon!  
In the meantime, please leave your reviews, I'd love to read some feedback._

_Next chapter: "Execution"_


	4. Chapter 4: Execution

_As I was writing this chapter I've been adding so much that it now seems better to post it in two chapters. The first being this one, the second I will post as soon as I'm finished writing. :) In the meantime, please enjoy:_

_Oh, small warning: There may be some graphic content in here._

* * *

**Chapter 4: Execution**

His mind restless, his body trembling, he sat down on his knees on the cold damp floor of his cell. The sun was setting in, and a small reddish light lit up a corner of his cell. It wouldn't be long now, until they will come in and guide him to his end.

What end would it be? He wondered, as he rested his eyes on the barred window above him. Would his friends come to his rescue at the last minute? Would they be present, immobilized, watching him die. Aramis shuddered at the thought.

'Hey you!' someone shouted through the bars, ending Aramis' train of thoughts. He looked up in confusion, seeing a guard standing at the door.  
'Was this it?' The musketeer asked himself.  
'You have a guest' The guard uttered in contempt as he stepped away from the cell door.  
Than a cloaked person stepped forward. With one hand the person ordered the guard to leave, who obeyed directly.

Aramis stood up, wondering who this person might be. And as he stepped closer he realized he recognized the lovable eyes of Anne of Austria, the queen. She looked sad, a watery glow in her eyes behind the dark shadow of her hood.

Aramis suddenly leapt to his feet. Almost angry he approached her. 'What are you doing here?!' He whispered harshly. She only reacted by holding up her hand, as to prevent the prisoner from talking any further. She looked to her right and left, checking to see if there were guards nearby. As the hall was empty, she sighed and removed her hood, showing her worried face to Aramis. Her eyes filled with tears seeing her love like this.

'I heard…' she started, reacting to Aramis' grave look. He looked down in shame. She immediately put her hand through the bars, softly grabbing his chin, forcing him to look her into her eyes. Aramis swallowed as he stared back at her. Then he reminded himself, and forced his head out of her hand, stepping back. She gasped at the response.

'You shouldn't be here!' Aramis cried.  
Ignoring his plead, she grabbed the bars of the cell, only wanting to push them aside, to be with her brave musketeer once more, but unable.  
'Why did you say it?' She questioned.  
Aramis looked up at her. There was a time where he would've done anything to get out of this cell, enveloping his arms around Anne, and never let her go. But he couldn't, her life, and his son's life were at risk. He admired the woman standing in front of him, risking everything to have one last word with her lover and father of her child.  
'There was no other way.' He replied, stepping nearer he added; 'Anne, it would've been your death sentence! And God knows what they'd do to The Dauphin!'

A long finger reached out to his face, pressing his lips, as her other hand grabbed Aramis' shackled hand. She was shocked to feel his hands were ice cold. 'Please Aramis, I only have a few moments.'  
Her finger trailed down his face, touching the curves of his countenance. He felt the warmth of her hand on his cheeks, a he pushed his face further into her hand a tear trickled down his cheek. At the same moment he saw Anne crying silently. They stared at each other for a moment, in silence.

The moment ended abruptly when the noise of a door was heard. They both turned to look, but no one came in.

'I'm sorry, for everything.' Aramis suddenly confessed, as he grabbed her hand more tightly. She shook her head in defiance.  
'No my love, don't be sorry. Whatever happens, I will never regret what happened between us. But please let us not despair, I can try talking to Louis, maybe he can spare your life.'  
Aramis shook his head this time, pressing her hand between his. 'No, Anne, please. I don't want you to put your life on the line. Pleading for my life would cause distrust about my confession, and therefore our involvement. My only hope now lies with my friends. Or else, redemption.'  
Anne watched him, sorrow in her eyes. He was determined. There seemed nothing to be done to change his mind.

Suddenly footsteps closed, Aramis shifted his eyes, letting go of Anne's hand and stepping back. Anne grabbed the bars of the cell once more, tightening her grip in anguish. She wanted to tell Aramis that she loved him, that it would be okay, that it would all work out. But as a guard stepped closer she postured herself back into the cold person she pretended to be when arriving, wiping away her tears. Hoping to fool the guards.

'Has he shown remorse, your majesty?' The guard asked, glaring at the prisoner.  
'He has.' She replied coldly.  
'Good, they are ready for him outside.' The guard replied, signaling to the other guards to come and help him.

Anne and Aramis shared a painful glare, wondering if their eyes would ever meet again. As the other guards came down, Aramis felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. His stomach turned and his face grew pale while one of the guards was fiddling with the keys and the lock. The others drew their pistols and aimed them at Aramis through the bars.

'Back up, hands and face against the wall!' one of them commanded waving with his pistol, while another guard opened the gate and walked in. Aramis slowly backed up and did what he was told. As he pushed his hands against the wall, feeling the coldness of the stone bricks, he quickly wondered if he would be able to fight the guards off and free himself. It might be a last resort, but would most likely get him shot, perhaps even multiple times. No, this was not the time, he thought, and quickly wiped the idea from his mind. Two other guards stepped behind him, aiming their guns at his back. The rattling of iron sounded behind him as one of the men took off the chain tied to his arms and the wall.

'Finally.' Aramis commented with a grin, as he was guided to the door of his cell. 'You know, I'm not really into shackles and chains, but I bet you don't mind them in your bedroom, do you?' he joked, feeling some relief to being able to taunt a man again. But the guard didn't take it well, and slammed the back of his pistol against Aramis' wounded shoulder, who uttered a small cry of pain.

Anne watched closely in the shadows as the three guards forced the musketeer out of the prison cell and into the hall. She gulped, trying to fix her gleaming eyes on Aramis, holding her breath as she observed him being escorted to the outside door of the prison. Aramis managed to turn his head one last time, catching a last glimpse of Anne, while forcing a small smile on his face. Then a guard pulled a burlap bag over his head and escorted him out of the prison.

Now his eyes were covered, suddenly all sounds and smells were amplified. He heard the shouts and screams coming from inside the prison, the galloping of horses, people talking in the streets and he felt the warmth of the last bits of sunbeams of the day hitting his body.  
'At least the sun is still shining, the world will keep on turning, even after my death.' He thought, finding some solitary peace in it, as he was pushed on the back of a cart.

It took a while before the cart halted and he was dragged off and pushed up some steps. There were dim voices talking somewhere close by. Someone near pushed him towards a spot and tied his arms behind his back around a wooden stake. Then another rope was bound around his ankles, the rough structure of the rope burned his skin as they tightened it.

When someone suddenly removed the bag from his head, the last light of the day hit his eyes, blinding him for a few seconds. But he quickly regained sight only to be struck by something on his chest, it felt cold and mushy, and as he looked down on his white shirt, he noticed a red stain coming from a rotten tomato someone had thrown at him. As he looked up, he noticed he was put on a wooden platform, and a crowd had gathered in front of him. It seemed as if all of Paris had come out of their houses to witness his execution. People were yelling, scolding him, screaming that he should die a most painful death, calling him a rapist.

His heart stopped, his throat went dry and his eyes grew wide. Word had clearly got out about his confession, and he knew who was to blame.

A figure dressed in black stepped forward. Raising his hand towards the crowd to calm them down, giving a small glare at the musketeer at the same time. Rochefort was evidently very pleased with himself for gathering such a crowd to witness Aramis' ordeals.

'We are here, to witness the execution of the criminal Aramis d'Herblay. Who has been found guilty of high treason, in raping our beloved queen.' Rochefort stated.  
The crowd grew wild, yelling loudly and throwing objects at the musketeer.

In panic, his eyes scoured the crowd, hoping to find a familiar face. But all he ever found were hostile eyes piercing back at him. Losing all hope, his heart beat faster and faster and having no control over his breathing his chest pounded up and down in agony. Twisting and turning in his bounds, he only managed to tighten himself and meanwhile burning his skin.

Rochefort moved towards Aramis, holding out his hands as if to present him to the crowd.  
'Any last words?' Rochefort asked, curious to find out how the prisoner would respond.

As he noticed how Aramis was quickly moving his eyes from left to right, searching for his friends, he stepped even closer, his mouth near Aramis' ear, and he added; 'They're not here, they won't come.'  
While still being able to move his head, Aramis responded by giving Rochefort a violent head-butt, pushing the man away from him. A small trickle of blood poured down Aramis' face from where the two heads had connected. But it was worth it, though still struck by the impact those words had, after all he had put him through.

Rochefort, perturbed at the action, took a second to regain his natural air of disdain, while the crowd behind him laughed at the event taking place.

'I take that as a "no".' He remarked as he put his hand against his head. This time Aramis responded by spitting on Rocheforts feet, while glowering angrily in his eyes.

'A definite "no", I presume.' Rochefort commenced, turning back to the crowd.

'So, what punishment is suitable for this wretched crime!? The committee has decided that, since this crime is an act against the country and our kingdom, the country should decide.'

Aramis was stunned. 'What! This is unheard of!' he shouted.

'Ah, so the prisoner CAN speak?' Rochefort replied; 'This crime is unheard of! So the punishment must see fit. So, what should it be?'

Only now Aramis noticed the gruesome decorations of the platform. To his left, an executioner with a sword was waiting, further to his left there stood a wooden wheel, on his right he noticed a gunman holding a musket, and behind the man a rack of torture devices containing all kinds of whips, blades and stuff. Aramis' breath stopped at the sight.

Rochefort stepped to Aramis' left and pulled a noose from above him, dangling it in front of his face. The crowd booed loudly.

'Nope, no noose for you!' Rochefort grinned at Aramis, reacting to the response of the crowd.

What was this sick game Rochefort was playing with him? To what end led this ordeal? Was there no mercy?

Than Rochefort moved to his right, pointing at the gunman.

'A bullet to the skull than?!' He asked the crowd, resulting in another wall of booing. 'Apparently not…' he added, gazing at Aramis with raised brows and a slight curve on his smile.

'How about a nice clean beheading?' Rochefort said, as he walked towards the executioner. But again, the crowd was not agreeing.

'Gut him!' Someone in the crowd shouted, shocking Aramis, making him cringe against the stake, the adrenaline in his body almost blurring his sight.

Rochefort laughed at the sight. 'No, no beheading for you..' Next, he walked towards the wooden wheel. 'What about breaking him on the wheel?' he added, as he caressed the wood of the wheel next to him. A loud booing came up from the crowd, disagreeing with the sentence.

'Just get it over with!' Aramis yelled at Rochefort. 'Have some mercy!'

'Ah! Mercy!' Rochefort replied, laughing towards the crowd. 'You hear that? The man wants mercy!'  
The crowd burst into laughter, echoing Rochefort. 'Alright! We've heard enough! The people of France must be pleased. By all means, please, suit yourselves!' He pointed at the rack of torture devices. 'The people have spoken!'

'You can't do this!' Aramis screamed at Rochefort, eyes blazing, heaving heavily. Rochefort quickly turned towards him.  
'Yes I can.' He replied, whispering to the musketeer, resting one hand on Aramis' shoulder. 'I told you it would not end well, you will beg for a bullet in your brain before you die, but it will not be given.'Then a sudden piercing pain rushed through Aramis' side. As he looked down he saw Rochefort's hand holding the handle of a poniard, the other end was pierced inside his side. As he looked up, he gazed back in the demonic eyes of Rochefort, grinning at him. He pushed down on Aramis' shoulder as he pulled the poniard out of his body, blood gushing out. Suddenly, Aramis felt eerily hot, sweat dripping from his hair upon his face, his hands behind him shaking.

Rochefort disappeared from his sight. But then he noticed the first men climbing on top of the platform, slowly forming a circle around him. The first few seconds no one seemed to dare throwing the first punch, but after clearly being approved by Rochefort and the guards, the first man stepped forward. He hit Aramis straight in the face with his fist, bruising his eye, splitting his lips. Than the rest stepped forward and a multitude of punches landed all over his body. Someone behind him grabbed his wrists and pushed them high above Aramis' head, dislocating his shoulders. Just when another fist had smashed against his head someone yelled to the crowd; 'Use these!'. And the man quickly distributed some knifes and blades between the rest of the party.

The first cut was made on his chest as he simultaneously got beaten by a stick on his arms and legs. He felt already numb when the second cut was made on his back, tearing his shirt apart. Meanwhile the heat had passed into an ice cold shiver. He felt light in his head, his breath stocking, he was bleeding to death.

His sight grew dim and blurry, a deep monotonous tone pierced through his head. He could no longer stand on his feet. As his legs gave in, he felt himself slowly sliding down the stake. All he wanted was to be able to put his body on the ground, and stay there, but someone noticed and grabbed his throat, pressing him up against the stake while punching him fiercely in his side where Rochefort had stabbed him. Gasping for air, he cringed, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He wanted it to be over.  
And while that was the only thing on his mind, suddenly the barrel of a pistol moved towards his head. As his sight was blurry, he couldn't make out a face behind the pistol. But Aramis seemed relieved to be able to end this torture. He closed his eyes in peace, welcoming the shot.

It would be over quickly.

* * *

_Next! Will Aramis whish be granted? Is this the end? Will his friends still come and rescue or will he remain alone in his penance? Find out in the next chapter: "The reunion"_

_So, I promised some swashbuckling, but did not deliver during this chapter. Sorry for that, it will all be put in the next one. :)  
Hope you liked it! please leave your opinion in a review, I very much appreciate it!_


	5. Chapter 5: The reunion

_So, finally, chapter 5! As I promised: Some swashbuckling, action, suspense and of course hurt/comfort.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 5: The reunion**

The sound of a shot being fired echoed from the square.

Aramis opened his eyes, the barrel had fallen to the ground. Someone had shot the gunman. Suddenly a skirmish in the middle of the crowd unfolded. Someone behind him cut the bounds on his feet and moved to cut the bounds on his wrists, but was prevented by someone. The clinging of blades sounded behind him, another shot sounded farther away. Everything seemed blurry, Aramis couldn't focus his eyes. People around him stopped assaulting him as they seemed distracted by the skirmish.

Now his feet were freed he suddenly felt the urge to lean back and slide himself to the ground. As soon as he felt the floor underneath him a hand touched his shoulder and a familiar face appeared in front of him.

'Athos? Is it you?' Aramis questioned, barely being able to speak those few words. He clenched his eyes to see if he was dreaming. With tears in his eyes, Athos held Aramis tightly, cutting the bounds of his hands behind the stake.  
'I'm so sorry Aramis!' Athos cried. But he couldn't finish his line as a man behind him opened an attack with a dagger. Almost automatically Aramis grabbed a pistol from Athos' hip and shot the man in his chest. Athos gasped as he looked behind him, seeing the attacker dead on the floor. He smiled at the accuracy Aramis' still had, even though his body was broken. He looked back at Aramis an noticed his brothers arms seemed lifeless dangling beside his body, his head swaying in a confused state.

Suddenly another pair of hands grabbed Aramis from behind and pulled him up, one arm over his shoulder. Aramis gave a howl as his arms were still dislocated. Looking to his side he gazed in the merciful eyes of Porthos.

'Hold on tight!' Porthos warned Aramis.  
'Porthos! Get him out of here!' Athos yelled at him, while parrying a lunge. He looked around in the crowd. 'D'Artagnan! Where are you!'

'Grab the musketeers!' Rochefort suddenly shouted at the guards as he had only now noticed Aramis was being rescued. 'Shoot them!'

D'Artagnan came running through the crowd, ending with his back against Athos' back, both holding their blades in defense while protecting Porthos and Aramis from the crowd.

Aramis couldn't believe it, his friends had made it, they really came through, saving him. Porthos held him closely as he forced himself through the crowd down the platform. At first it seemed Porthos could guide Aramis by his side, but soon Aramis' body gave in. Porthos felt his body suddenly dropping next to him like a sack of potatoes. As the crowd once more gathered round them he quickly grabbed the musketeer and with one swift movement threw him over his shoulder.

Now being more free to push himself through the crowd, he quickly found a way out. He looked back, seeing Athos and D'Artagnan still fighting off guards. Most people had been scared away by the brute force of the fighting between the musketeers and the guards.

'D'Artagnan! Go help Porthos, protect them in their escape!' Athos yelled at D'Artagnan.  
'What about you?!' The younger one replied.  
'I'll be alright, I'll follow you as soon as I can!'  
D'Artagnan raised his brows, but nodded in response. He trusted Athos to handle things. He hastily followed Porthos' footsteps, now and then pushing people away, with and without his sword.

Athos quickly moved away from the platform, but before reaching the steps he was blocked by Rochefort. Face red in anger, he lunged his sword straight at Athos, who parried and returned a lunge at the other man. Blades crossed, they pushed each other back and forward, until Athos drove Rochefort back, cutting his arm with his poniard.

'What do you think you're doing?' Rochefort demanded, while signaling to his guards to back him up.  
'Rescuing a friend.' Athos answered. 'You won't get away with this!'  
Rochefort tried once again to lunge at Athos, but was easily riposted by the musketeer, leading to a new cut, this time on Rochefort's leg.

Meanwhile, D'Artagnan had been able to hold off the crowd and the guards while Porthos carried Aramis away from the square. They ran through a narrow alley crisscrossing through the center of Paris. D'Artagnan followed behind them.

'Wait, Porthos!' D'Artagnan exclaimed running towards him.  
Porthos halted, and turned towards D'Artagnan. 'What is it?'  
'Is he.. unconscious?' D'Artagnan asked, waving some of Aramis' hair out of the musketeers face, hoping to see his eyes.  
'Yeah, I think he is, we don't have much time. It's just around the corner now.' Porthos implored.  
'What about Athos? He said he would follow.'  
'He will.' Porthos replied resolute, deciding they should hurry to the safehouse. He proceeded his flight with D'Artagnan at his' six.

They ended they're flight in front of a church. Porthos pointed to the side of it. 'There!'  
D'Artagnan quickly overtook Porthos, running to the door, it seemed like the hatch of some sort of basement beneath the church. He scanned the surroundings making sure there was no other man near. The sun had gone down, darkening the skies. This would cover them at least a bit.

He opened the hatch, releasing the scent of old books, dust and rotten wood. Porthos stepped next to him.  
'Let me check inside before you enter.' D'Artagnan implored.  
'No time.. we'll be fine.' Porthos replied. He stepped through the hatch, down the steps, balancing Aramis on his shoulder. D'Artagnan stepped in behind him, giving one last look through the doors before closing them. He had hoped to see Athos nearing them, but the streets were empty.

As he stepped down he discovered a tight room with a small bed, a desk and chair, and some old barrels stacked against the wall. The place was dark and damp. Porthos had lit a candle near the bed, where he had placed Aramis.

D'Artagnan sat next to him noticing his friend's face clearly in pain and anguish, his eyes clenched, his forehead wet with sweat. As he moved his eyes towards the musketeers chest he noticed cuts and bruises all over.

'He has a bad wound in his side. We have to stop the bleeding before he bleeds to death.' Porthos noted as he gave a worried look at his brother. 'There should be some bandages and other medical equipment in here.'

D'Artagnan nodded. 'What is this place?' He asked.  
'You give pressure on that wound, I'll search the room.' Porthos barked. He was clearly upset by the event. D'Artagnan had never seen Porthos concerned like this.

As he pushed his hands on the wound on Aramis' side, the musketeer groaned in pain. 'Sorry…' D'Artagnan apologized, glad to see his brother conscious.

'Got it!' Porthos suddenly yelled, as he held up a package he found somewhere between the barrels.

They were both quick to reach for their guns and aim it at the door as it creaked open.

'It's me!' A voice rang. Athos stepped inside, closing the hatch behind him, locking it. He rushed towards Aramis. 'How is he?'

'Not too well…' Porthos replied as he opened the package and stepped towards the bed.

Athos noticed D'Artagnan's hand pressing Aramis' side. 'What's that?' He questioned.

'He has been stabbed by someone. We need to dress his wounds.' Porthos growled.

'Let me see.' Athos beseeched as he moved D'Artagnan's hand away from the wound. His eyes widened as he observed the severeness of it. 'Damnit!' He cursed. The marksman's chest was a mess, his shirt hanged loosely around his body, torn at the places where cuts had been made, stains of blood were everywhere. His white shirt became more red by the minute. Athos immediately tore away the rest of the shirt, uncovering the wounds.

' 'Thos…' Aramis uttered almost inaudible, now and then opening and closing his eyes.  
'I'm here.' Athos replied as he put his hand on his brothers' cheek. Aramis returned a broken smile at him, almost breaking his brothers' heart.

Porthos moved D'Artagnan aside as he started unwinding a bandage, but Athos intervened.  
'No, it won't do…' he sighed. 'We need to clean it, and close the wound as quickly as possible. It is too deep, if we leave it open it will get infected.'  
'How?' D'Artagnan demanded.  
'It won't be pretty…' Athos warned, as he looked at his two brothers. He sighed, and continued; 'I need a fire.' as he pulled out his poniard.  
Portos and D'Artagnan looked at him in surprise.  
'What are you going to do?' Porthos wondered.  
'The heat of the blade will burn his wounds inside, and stop the bleeding, then we can stitch him up.'  
D'Artagnan shuddered. 'That doesn't sound good…'  
'It is not, but right now, it's the best way to save Aramis. We must hurry or he'll bleed to death.'

Porthos immediately stood up and walked towards a chimney in the corner of the room, pushing some of the books and papers of the desk in it.

Within seconds Porthos had started a fire. The light lit up the room. Now being able to clearly see Aramis' face and body they gasped. His face was almost unrecognizable, bruised and cut, blood seeped from his head. There were cuts all over his chest and lower abdomen. Bruises were forming on his stomach and sides. They noticed the unsteady heaving of his chest.

The three of them were speechless at the sight.

D'Artagnan felt tears in his eyes, but wiped them away quickly as he pressed his hands back on the wound at Aramis' side. Suddenly Aramis opened his eyes wide, letting out a scream of pain, rising from the bed, startling the brothers.

'Where… where am I?!' He gasped, as his eyes searched the room and rested on Athos.  
'You're safe my friend. Please, lie down, we need to dress your wounds.' Athos urged as he laid his hand upon Aramis chest.  
'My…arms…' Aramis uttered.  
'What's wrong?' D'Artagnan asked, as he looked at Aramis distressed.  
'I think..' he coughed. '….dislocated…' he added in pain as he rested his head on the pillow.  
Athos gulped and glared at Porthos.  
'Porthos, I need your help.'  
He stood up from the fireplace and sat on the bedside, nodding at Athos. D'Artagnan backed away, looking confused at his brothers.  
'This will hurt.' Athos warned Aramis with a strict face.  
Porthos, unbuckled Aramis belt, folding the leather. He held it in front of Aramis mouth, who bit in it with his teeth, letting out a deep sigh. Now Porthos wrapped his arms around Aramis' chest, tilting him up to a sitting position.  
'At three.' Athos informed Porthos who nodded in return. Aramis clenched his eyes.  
Athos grabbed one of Aramis' arms, stretching it out to the side and started counting.  
'one…two…THREE!' He yelled as he pulled hard on Aramis' arm, forcing it back to its place. Aramis grunted, muffled by the belt, and pushed himself in Porthos' chest, as tears trickled down his face.  
D'Artagnan stood aghast as his face grew pale.

'One down, one to go…' Athos sighed, as he moved to the other side of the bed.

D'Artagnan turned around, he could not bear to see them do that again. He bit his lip as he heard the repeated sounds of his friends behind him. He wondered if the three of them had been in a similar situation before, they all seemed to know exactly what to do.

Porthos laid Aramis back down on the bed as he turned towards his brothers.  
'D'Artagnan! Come and give pressure to the wound on his side.' D'Artagnan obediently stepped next to the bed and pushed his hands hard on Aramis' side, who clenched his teeth and balled his fists in agony. D'Artagnan returned a grave look of pity and pain.

In the meantime, Athos had moved to the fire and put his poniard in the middle of it. The blade glowing almost red at the intense heat of the fire.

Porthos saw how Aramis was shivering whilst transpiration flowed from his hair and face. He cupped his chin, trying to comfort the marksman.  
'It'll be alright now.' He told him, resting his eyes on the others, holding back his tears.

Joining them, Athos moved to D'Artagnan's side, asking him to clear the wound. As the youngest moved away his hands, the blood came flowing out of the wound, covering the bedsheets in red. Athos gave a quick look at Porthos, who without words or hesitation grabbed Aramis' arms, pushing them down on the mattress next to his head, while using his chest to press down on Aramis' upper body.

'You grab his feet.' Athos ordered D'Artagnan, who immediately turned towards the back of the bed and grabbed Aramis feet, pushing them down.

Finally Athos and Porthos gave a firm look at Aramis, who, still biting the leather belt, tried as hard as he could to prepare for what was coming.  
'Ready?' Athos asked Aramis. The marksman nodded carefully in response.

Suddenly an intense cold-like pain emerged from Aramis' side as Athos gently pushed the dagger inside the wound, burning vessels, muscle tissue and skin around it. In a reflect Aramis pushed himself towards Porthos, who at once replied by pressing down his body on Aramis' chest. Resting his head next to him, he let out a tear as he tried to shush his brother who grunted at the movement of the dagger in his side.

Trying hard not to pass out, he bit firmly in the leather between his teeth as he squirmed against the pain.

'Alright' Athos remarked, as he pushed himself away from the wound. 'It stopped bleeding.' D'Artagnan let out a sigh as he and Porthos let go of Aramis. 'Now we only have to clean it and stitch it up, any alcohol nearby?'  
'Yes, in the medical kit. I'll grab it.' Porthos replied as he fetched the kit. He pulled out a little vile and gave it to Athos. Meanwhile, Aramis had spit out the belt and let out a groan of pain, coughing up some blood.

'Give me some…' Aramis sputtered as he fixed his eyes on the vile in Athos' hand. Athos raised his brows.  
'What? You want this?...' He gave a look at Porthos who stared confused back at him. 'Are those barrels full?' Athos added.  
'I believe so.. I think it's rum.' Porthos replied as he gave a glare at the barrels in the back of the room.  
'Come on! Please give me something for the pain!' Aramis muttered trying to tilt his head, his face wet with tears and sweat.  
'Aramis, I can't give you this…' Athos spoke to him, looking at his brother in pain. 'If you drink this, even a little, you won't live to tell.'  
Aramis grunted in anger. 'Than give me some damn rum.'  
'Alright, alright!' Porthos intervened. 'But then you must shut up, talking is bad for your wounds.'  
He got up and walked to the barrels. An empty flask lay on top, he filled it with the rum and gave it to Aramis, who eagerly took it from is hand and put it to his mouth. Swallowing a couple of gulps Athos hand pulled the flask out of Aramis'.  
'That's enough for now! Now I need you to turn on your side so I can pour the alcohol over it.'  
'Yes, pray continue…' Aramis joked, as he, with the help from Porthos, turned on his side. 'Porthos, my friend, why are there two of you?' he laughed, but soon stopped after the pain of laughing rushed through his body. Porthos gave a concerned glare at Athos, who, ready to pour the alcohol, returned the look.

Aramis moaned in pain as Athos poured the liquid on his wound. He clenched his hands in the mattress and closed his eyes in agony as Athos stitched the wound.

'There all done. Just a few bandages now and you'll be fine.' Athos remarked as he started wrapping a bandage around the musketeers waist.

In a few seconds Athos was done, and Aramis chest was fully covered with bandages.  
'Rest now.' He implored Aramis, who obediently relaxed his body and closed his eyes.

Athos stepped away from the bed and walked near the fire, leaning one hand against the wall of the chimney. The light lid up his face, revealing a grave look in his eyes. Porthos noticed and walked up to him, quickly followed by D'Artagnan, who had put a blanked over Aramis' body.

For a few seconds the three of them stood silence, the fire warming their hands and bodies.

'What now?' D'Artagnan asked to no one in particular.  
'We wait.' Athos replied, staring in the fire.  
'We make a plan.' Porthos added, looking fiercely at his brothers. They nodded in response.  
'Let's make a plan!' D'Artagnan urged, as he reached out his hand to his brothers.  
'One for all…'  
Porthos and Athos both reached out simultaneously, laying their hands on top of D'Artagnans'.  
'And all for one!'

* * *

 _So, for now this is the conclusion to this part of the story. I'm still cooking up some ideas for the next part. It will be a revenge/action/adventure story. But it will take me a while to make up a good plot. I will, of course, update as soon as I can.  
_ _If you have any suggestions please don't fail to mention them in a comment/review._  
Also I'd really love to know what you thought of it up until now.

_Please review/comment/follow. Thank you so much for sticking with me! I will not let you down in the next part of the story._

_Let me know what you'd like to read!_


	6. PART 2: Chapter 1: Awakening

_So, here we are again. :)  
I've been brooding over a nice plot to use for the next part. And I think I've found a nice base to build the story upon. I really wanted to go more deeply into the emotions of the 4 friends, so the first chapter (this one), is a fallout of all that has happened. I hope you enjoy reading it. :D_

* * *

**PART 2.  
Chapter 1: Awakening**

The light of the sun was almost fading, leaving the small room darker by the minute. The fire in the fireplace was almost out, coldness creeping over the place. A church bell rang as Aramis opened his eyes. Restless, he shoved around under his blanket. He watched as his breath became visible clouds of damp in front of his face. As he moved his head to the side he noticed Athos sitting in a chair next to his bed, eyes closed and with his blue musketeers cloak draped over his body as a blanket, a musket resting against the side of the chair. Aramis curled his mouth into a soft smile. He looked around, thinking he would meet the eyes of Porthos and d'Artagnan, but there was no one else in the room. Then he noticed the feeble flickering of the last ashes in the fireplace. He shivered.

Slowly he started moving his arms, clenching his fists as if he hadn't done it in years. Everything seemed to work. Tilting his head up he watched his feet move. Good, that also still worked. Placing his elbows beneath him he pushed himself upwards. He let out a hiss as he felt a pain in his side and quickly placed his hand on the place where he had been stabbed. Suddenly he remembered it all.

Pulling away the blankets he twisted his body to a sitting position. It wasn't perfect, but at least he could move, although the pain didn't really help. With one hand he grabbed the bedpost and leaned on it to get a grip so he could stand up. It all seemed to go perfectly fine until a sudden sting in his side forced him to grab the bedpost with both hands, stumbling a little. He managed to get a hold of himself and pushed forward to the fireplace, determined to light it up again.

Every step seemed to pulsate a fierce pain through his body, though he tried to ignore them. He grabbed a piece of firewood and threw it on the glowering ashes. The glow enlarged and sparks flew up through the chimney.

Meanwhile, Athos woke from a restless sleep finding the bed empty. In shock he stood up finding the silhouette of Aramis in front of the fire.

'You shouldn't be up.' He commanded as he walked towards his brother.

Aramis turned around and smiled at his friend. 'Well, you shouldn't leave a fire out to die in this cold place. A man might catch a cold.'

Athos smiled back at him, glad to see the good old grin back on his friend's face. He grabbed his shoulder and pulled him towards his chest to give him a nice big hug.

'Aaahhh…' Aramis moaned in pain as he clenched on to Athos' clothes, who immediately supported him back to the bed.

'Lie down you fool.'

With a sigh Aramis obliged and rested his head back upon his pillow.

'How are you feeling?'

Aramis gave a look at Athos, he seemed truly worried about his state.

'I'm fine. Really! Aside from being ripped to pieces by the crowd and feeling a scorching pain in my side from a stab wound. Oh, and don't forget the fact that officially now, I'm a rapist who got away.' He said smiling.

Athos turned his gaze to the ground in discomfort. Aramis noticed and added; 'Really, I'm okay. I was just joking.' He grabbed Athos' hand to reassure him.

'You almost died Aramis...' Athos replied, a grave look upon his countenance. He sat down in his chair, his head hanging between his arms clenched behind his neck.

'Yeah, but you rescued me my friend. You saved me, all of you did!'

'No, it's not that… You almost died here…You don't remember?' Athos asked. Aramis recognized that serious look on his face. It hurt him to see Athos like this.

'I'm sorry.. I don't recall…' He felt stupefied. What was he talking about…?

'I tended to your wounds, you fell asleep, but we couldn't wake you up… we believed you were unconscious, but then.. a fever kicked in. You fought with all your might to get over it….'

Suddenly Aramis wondered. 'How long have I been here?'

'You've been here for about 5 days now. Only yesterday we found you were getting better.'

Aramis gulped. 'What? 5 days?... No that's not possible.'

'For about 3 days we were worried sick. Your temperature rose so quickly… you didn't seem to wake. Only flashes sometimes, you awoke in pain and stress, sitting up straight in bed, only to fall back asleep seconds later. We felt helpless, for we couldn't ask anyone to help you. Luckily Bazin, a beadle in this church, helped us. He said he knew you. He didn't believe the accusations against you.'

'Bazin?' He frowned for a moment before recalling the person behind the name. 'Ah, I remember, right after Savoy, he guided me now and then when I was in need of prayer… and forgiveness.' For a moment he paused, staring to the ceiling. 'I'm not worthy of forgiveness though…'

Athos wanted to comment but was rudely interrupted by the sound of the opening of the hatch. Porthos and d'Artagnan entered the room.

'Our boy's awake!' Porthos yelled, as he run to the bedside, closely followed by d'Artagnan.

'Yes, yes! I'm up, please don't smother me Porthos!' Aramis cried as he tried to loosen Porthos' hug. He backed off immediately, smiling back at his brother.  
'Sorry! I'm just glad to see you awake.' He excused himself.

'Welcome back my friend!' d'Artagnan smiled, forming a grin from ear to ear. 'We've so much to tell you…'

'It can wait… for now.' Athos interrupted quickly, looking d'Artagnan fiercely in his eyes. 'Rest Aramis, we'll get you something to drink.'

Aramis smiled. Happy to see his friends, the pain almost died in their presence. Then suddenly he realized. 'Wait, you guys… you shouldn't have…this is wrong! You have to… this is can't be.'

Three pair of eyes stared back at his'.

'What are you talking about?' Porthos questioned, looking sternly into Aramis' dark eyes.

'You shouldn't have saved me! What now? They saw you? Rochefort saw you? He knows you rescued me!? They will go after you… Don't you see!' Aramis sputtered, but Athos interrupted.

'Stop it! Aramis, just stop!'

Aramis instantly sat up, leaning against the iron headrest of the bed. 'No! Damn you, I've done it again, haven't I? I dragged you down with me! Please! You can't… Just leave me here, I'll be fine… I'll… I'll leave Paris, search for a convent somewhere, away from here…. I'll be fine… Go to Treville…' He paused for a moment. D'Artagnan wanted to speak but his words mingled with the rambling of Aramis. 'Treville! He doesn't know… right? About this rescue of yours… Tell me he doesn't know!'

'He doesn't….. but' D'Artagnan tried.

'Good! Then go to him, tell him I somehow forced you all to do this.. Maybe he'll just…'

'Shut up already!' Athos growled as he stood up from his chair. 'Why do you always think you should do these things alone. Suffer alone. Fight alone. Aramis, we are your friends! Please! For once in your life let us help you!'

Stunned at these words Aramis sighed as his eyes started to glisten.

'You guys…' He muttered, as his head sank on his chest. 'I don't want you to suffer as... I don't want you to…get hurt…or die.' He sobbed as he placed his hands against his eyes in shame.

This time it was d'Artagnan who bend forward, kneeling beside the bed. He grabbed Aramis' hands, resting them on his brother's lap, revealing Aramis' bloodshot watery eyes. He looked deep in Aramis' eyes as he spoke in a gentle voice;  
'Aramis, please… we want to stay with you, help you. We love you, and we will never let you face all this by yourself. Please let us.' He paused, as he used his thumb to dry one of the tears trailing down the marksman's face.

Aramis was speechless.

'But how… how can I mend this? I don't see how I

can. I'm a wanted man, I confessed…'

'You saved the queen and the Dauphin. It was a brave thing to do!' Athos responded resolute.

'I'm almost ashamed to admit… But for a moment there…on the scaffold… I was worried you wouldn't come.' Aramis lowered his head as he confessed to his brothers.

'I'm sorry my friend. We got lucky… we overheard someone in the palace about the decision to let the people of Paris decide your sentence and even carry it out… a despicable thing, unheard of! But lucky for us, since that would give us the perfect cover to free you. For a moment we feared Rochefort couldn't hold himself and would kill you himself… But he is too big of an asshole. Thank God…'

Aramis cracked a smile and started to laugh, the others joined in. For a moment they felt joy, a feeling they hadn't felt in a long time it seemed.

'Ah! Please… don't make me laugh!' Aramis beseeched while laughing, grabbing his side with his hand.

'Haha, sorry 'Mis.' Athos apologized, a smile on his face. 'It's nice to see you smile though.'

A moment of silence passed, as they enjoyed the carefree ambience. However it didn't take long to get serious again, as Aramis turned his smile to a grave look.

'Sorry to be the negative person all the time…but again… how am I going to mend this? I confessed…'

'There you go I'ing again! It's we! Or us! Try using it for a change!' Porthos insisted almost angrily.

Aramis grinned; 'sure, sorry, I mean, "how are WE going to mend this?"'

'We really need to work on your vocabulary! I don't wanna hear "sorry" from you anymore, you understand? Or do I need to punch it in that thick skull of yours?'

'Whow, no.. no need!' Aramis laughed as he pretended to scare away from Porthos. 'just please stop making me laugh, it's torture!'

'But yeah, about that… while you were resting here we have made some inquiries about some things.' Athos responded. He walked towards the barrels, filling a flask with the rum. 'I'm so sorry that I put you through that…' He handed the flask to Aramis, who thanked him. 'I couldn't see any other option to save the queen and the Dauphin…'

'It's okay… I tried…' Aramis started, remembering the trial. 'During the trial… I tried to blame Rochefort. There was a moment when the counsel almost seemed to take my accusations serious. But Rochefort… he…' he paused for a moment while taking a deep breath. 'They wanted proof… which I didn't have…, well… you know… it was impossible. And so… I did what you told me…' Aramis rested his eyes on his lap, gulping. 'Still can't believe I said it… that I confessed to….to _that_ …' His heart sank as his breathing stocked for a moment. He took a sip from the flask, hoping it would ease his mind.

Athos stood aghast. He couldn't find the words to reply to his brother. He felt terrible.

The silence was broken by d'Artagnan. 'We know… well… of course we don't know how it feels, but we feel terrible about it, especially Athos.' He shared a glance with Athos who curled his lips into a smile, happy that d'Artagnan was able to say out loud how he had felt all those days.

'Thanks…' Aramis replied, grabbing Athos' hand. He looked deep in the eyes of his brother. 'Really, Athos, it's okay. Thank you.' He said sincerely. 'Now, tell me about these inquiries of yours', he added, now more uplifted.

'Yes. Let's see.' Porthos started. 'While you were on trial we went to Treville, to try and see if he could do anything. But, of course, he had already been talking to some people in the palace. Rochefort had, evidently, already been forming a posse. Nothing seemed to help to get you out of the situation. So we had to try a different strategy.'

Aramis looked at him questioningly.

'We broke in to Rochefort's apartments.' D'Artagnan added, almost proudly, leaving Aramis with a look of surprise on his face.

'We did.' Porthos backed up. 'We thought we might find some evidence of him being a spy and all, of course we knew it would be a miracle if there would be anything at all. But it was worth a try.'

'And then we found these!' D'Artagnan interrupted, pulling two envelopes from his doublet.

'What are those?' Aramis asked, hoping it was some good news.

'These? These two envelopes contain letters from the Spanish ambassador.'

'What's in them?'

'He talks of some sums of money being transferred to Rochefort. Although, they do not say what for. But it's a start.'

'So what now? What's the plan?'

Athos stood up. He took the blanket from underneath Aramis' body and pulled it, covering Aramis'. 'First, you rest some more. Meanwhile, we'll go talk to the Ambassador.'

'No, I want to come along!' Aramis protested.

Athos wanted to complain, but was interrupted by the sound of the hatch. He quickly took his pistol from his belt and handed the musket to Aramis, while d'Artagnan and Porthos moved to the shadows, readying their blades.

A person stepped inside, but was immediately grabbed by Porthos and held to the point of a sword by d'Artagnan.

'State your business!' Athos yelled, but lowered his pistol as he recognized the person. Porthos and d'Artagnan did the same, and released the man.

He was a small person, young with bright eyes, wearing a black and brown cassock, a rosary hung around his neck.

'Bazin!' Aramis outed in surprise. 'My friend, how good it is to see you! It's been too long!' He handed the musket back to Athos, as he shifted back in a more relaxed sitting position on the bed.

'I'm sorry to startle you all so, monsieurs. But alas, I come with bad news.'

'Speak.' Aramis implored, his face turning from joy to fright. Porthos quickly closed the hatch.

'Treville, he has been ordered to find all of you. The town is swarming with musketeers. I'm afraid this place may be compromised, and is no longer safe.'

'Don't fret my friend, Treville will help us when he can.' Athos replied. Then turning to Porthos he added; 'We should reach out to him. He could help.' Porthos nodded in response.

But Bazin intervened; 'My lords, I'm sorry to tell you this. But the order seems to be to capture all of you… dead or alive…'

The room filled with astonishment as all of them stood staggered at this news.

* * *

_I absolutely loved writing this chapter, I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it.  
So, next chapter will probably have a little more action and suspense in it, and I'm not yet sure how it all will unravel, but as usual, I'll do my best to update as soon as I can._

_Please let me know what you think/ or want to read in the next chapters._


	7. PART 2: Chapter 2: The flight

_ So, today is my birthday! Yeay! And therefore I would like to treat you all with a new chapter! :)   
Writing Part 2 goes a bit slower then I would like to, but nonetheless I'm still writing, so that's a good thing, I gather. XD _

_ It's got a big emotional scene in it, which drew all of my energy when I wrote it, and it took a couple of days to continue the rest of this chapter. _

_ Hope you like it!  _

* * *

** PART 2. **

**Chapter 2: The flight**

Aramis sat quietly on his bed, watching his friends frantically running around the place collecting their stuff. In the five days that had passed the room had become a sanctuary for the four of them and therefore all of their usual belongings had slowly been moved from their apartments to this place. Things like weapons, clothes, sheets, candles, food and drinks were scattered about the place.

Bazin had come and gone, handing Athos directions to different places where they could go, and pointed him to a place where he would prepare four horses for them, so they could leave Paris as soon as possible. But they had to wait until dark to move out.

There was a moment where the four had argued amongst themselves on what steps to proceed. D’Artagnan was afraid of the wellbeing of Constance and wanted her to come along. But Athos protested. Constance didn’t know the location of their hiding spot, so she would be fine as long as d’Artagnan kept his mouth shut. On top of that, Treville would certainly take care of her, not to mention she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Still d’Artganan didn’t particularly feel okay leaving her like this, not being able to let her know where he would be.

Porthos wanted to stay in Paris to try and find the ambassador and force some answers out of him. Aramis agreed it would be better to find answers as quickly as possible. But Athos and d’Artagnan both objected to it. Finding a new safehouse was priority, not only to be safe from the party searching them, but also to give Aramis the rest he needed to heal.

Finally they had agreed to first find a new safehouse and then proceed with their plan to find the ambassador.

Athos had given Bazin instructions to find out where the ambassador would stay for the next couple of days. That way, they could come up with a plan as soon as they found a safe spot.

‘Come on, stop sulking Aramis!’ Athos growled as he threw a black cloak at his brother.

‘What’s this?’ Aramis asked as he unfolded the cloak in front of him.

‘You need to wear it when we leave.’

Aramis gave Athos a questioning look. Eyebrows frowned, eyes squinting. Athos gave a sigh in response before answering.

‘Because… people might recognize you.’ He decided, and quickly moved along, pretending to be busy stuffing his bags.

Aramis didn’t know how to respond. Not understanding the remark, he tried to find Porthos’ eyes. Hoping he would clarify. But Porthos didn’t notice it and continued counting fuses and balls.

‘People might recognize me?’ Aramis repeated, trying to get someone’s attention, voice slightly raised. This time he got their attention. Athos looked up at him, stern look on his face.

‘Well… since the execution was public… we don’t know who will or will not recognize you. We should be careful.’ Athos tried discreetly.

Aramis sank his head. Of course. He had not thought of that yet. But yes, anyone could recognize him, point him out.

‘Right… yeah, let’s be careful not to let anyone recognize the man who _raped_ the queen.’ He scoffed, trying to sound sarcastic, but the sound of depression in his voice could not go unnoticed.

The room went painfully silent again. The remark wounded the hearts of Athos, Porthos and d’Artagnan. Not knowing how to respond they just stood still, gazing at the floor.

Aramis sighed, understanding the impact of what he had said on his friends. He stood up from his bed, leaning on one of the bedposts.

‘I’m sorry… I’m afraid I’m not the best company to be in right now.’ He took a cup from the cabinet next to the bed, clenching his fingers around it in anger, feeling his heartbeat increase. A sudden feeling of helplessness overpowered him as he threw the cup against the wall behind him, shattering it to pieces. His eyes stung, his breath stocked and his throat went soar as he threw himself on his knees in front of the bed, leaning his elbows on it, holding his head in his hands in dismay. He couldn’t help a cry leaving his mouth as tears streamed down his face.

The others were shocked to see Aramis like this. It was not usual for Aramis to show his feelings like that. They all knew he rather kept to himself in moments of trouble and pain. Of course he wasn’t the only one, they all had had moments like these. But not to Aramis, who was so well trained in staying positive and was so experienced in pretending not to care.

Porthos was the first to respond. He ran up towards Aramis and knelt beside him, holding him tightly against him. The act made it even harder for Aramis to hold back his emotions. Not soon after, Athos and d’Artagnan had joined in. Not being able to hold back anymore Aramis broke down. His body shaking, tears streaming and cries leaving his mouth. Porthos slowly moved his hand across Aramis’ back trying to calm him down while Athos grabbed his shoulder squeezing it softly in a tender manner.

D’Artagnan was the first to speak.  
‘It’s okay. Just let it all out now.’ He spoke in a soft voice. It touched Aramis deeply, and in response he grabbed d’Artagnan’s hand, not wanting to let go. D’Artagnan felt his eyes became wet too. The whole situation was just too painful.

It was such a great relief to be able to finally pour it all out. Not just for Aramis, the rest of them had been bulking up their feelings and emotions too, and it felt great to release it all, even for just a moment. And for the first time in a long period Aramis felt like nothing had happened and everything was like it used to be between them. He could take on the world with his brothers near him. He noticed his breathing slowing down, the flood of tears lessened, and his heartbeat seemed to only beat fast out of love and joy.

All of them felt the moment had come to give each other some more space, Athos leaning back in the chair, Porthos leaning to the foot of the bed and D’Artagnan resting his back against the cabinet. Aramis dried his weary eyes, a weak smile forming on his face.

‘You guys…’ he uttered with still a bit of a crack in his voice. He looked down to his lap, feeling a bit ashamed of the whole situation. Then he found the courage to look up to them, resting his eyes from one to the other. ‘I would die without each one of you, thank you. I love you.’

‘Even me?!’ d’Artagnan responded, trying to move the conversation to a somewhat lighthearted tone.

Aramis turned towards the youngest, a broad grin on his face, eyes shining brightly. ‘Especially you!’ he teased, pushing d’Artagnan on his shoulder. Leaving him out of balance, almost falling over on his side.

‘Hey!’ d’Artagnan reacted, slapping Aramis on his arm in a playful manner.

Porthos suddenly stretched out his leg, kicking d’Artagnan in his feet.

‘No hitting the patient!’ he shouted sarcastically, giving d’Artagnan a stern look, making Aramis laugh.

‘What?!’ the youngest said, looking at Aramis in question playfully. Aramis responded by shrugging, while he laughed.

The hatch door swung suddenly open as Bazin appeared. Outside the sun had almost set, turning the sky dark. Athos looked up as Bazin closed the hatch behind him.

‘Everyone ready? All packed?’ He said, landing his eyes on Porthos and d’Artagnan. They nodded in response. Then he looked at Aramis with a serious look in his eyes. ‘You think you can walk?’

‘I’ll manage. Just point me in the right direction.’ The marksman replied to Athos with a grin on his face, as he sat up from the bed.

‘You think you can ride a horse? Or do we need to put you behind someone’s back?’

‘I think I’ll be okay. Let’s just go, before we get caught.’

Aramis swung the black cloak over his shoulders and picked up a bag. The others put away their blue musketeer cloaks just to be sure, and removed their pauldrons.

Within a minute everyone was ready to make the flight out of the basement.

‘I’ll go out first, and whistle when the street is clear. Please wait here.’ Bazin remarked, as he opened the hatch once again and poked his head outside before climbing up.

A whistle sounded outside and d’Artagnan was the first to climb up after Bazin. Athos quickly followed. Then with some difficulty Aramis climbed up the stairs and sprinted to the other side of the street. Porthos ran after him, just in case Aramis tripped and needed someone to support him.

‘The horses are ready for you. Just cross that street, and take a left on the second one.’ The beadle instructed Athos as he pointed in the direction they needed to go. Aramis stepped towards Bazin stretching out his hand.

‘I thank you once again my friend. You are a lifesaver! I will not forget it.’ He told the short man who grabbed his hand in return and shook it firmly.

Athos placed his hand on Aramis’ shoulder, signaling him that they had to leave. Aramis got the picture and released his grip on the beadle’s hand.

‘Be safe!’ was the last thing Bazin stated before he watched the four men run off through the dark streets of Paris.

They turned left, passed some shops and hurried off to the next crossroad.

‘There!’ Porthos pointed towards a small shack with four horses, all packed. He took a step towards them before d’Artagnan grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back in the shadows.

‘Wait!’ he whispered, pointing out three men with halberds nearing the horses. They were easily missed in the midst of the darkness. Closing in on the horses they spoke some words to each other, whilst inspecting the bags on the horses. It was clear they were alarmed by the situation. One of them looked around, hoping to find the owners of the horses.

‘Spread out!’ one of them shouted to the others as he stepped closer and closer towards our four friends. He was only a few steps away from the corner in which they hid.

Athos quickly pressed everyone with their backs against the wall, hoping not to be noticed in the shadows. A hand suddenly pulled the hood over Aramis’ head. He looked up and met the concerned eyes of Porthos. Even without speaking, they knew each other’s thoughts, nodding in response.

Hoping the man with the halberd would just pass by and call of the search, d’Artagnan couldn’t help but clenching his fist in fright of what might happen when they were discovered.

Suddenly a fierce sting ran through Aramis’ side. Trying not to make a sound, he wasn’t able to let out a short screech as he pushed his hand on the wound. Porthos quickly placed his hand over Aramis’ mouth, hoping to defuse any cries he might let out. For a moment they stood petrified, praying the men hadn’t heard it. But it was in vain as they instantly noticed the sound of feet running towards them.

Within seconds one of the men stood in front of them.

Athos instinctively stepped forward, with one hand making sure that d’Artagnan wouldn’t suddenly reach for his sword and stab the man.

‘State your business!’ The man urged. The two other men had joined them in an instant.

‘We are on our way to our inn over yonder.’ Athos tried, taking a small step to his left, hoping to block their view from Aramis. However one of the man had noticed the cloaked figure in the shadow.

‘Remove your hood!’ He commanded.

Porthos shifted on his feet, his hand slowly moving towards his sword. Athos on the other hand tried to soften the conversation.

‘Gentlemen, let us all calm down for a bit. There is no need for hostilities.’

But the man on his left stepped closer and suddenly reached out to grab Aramis’ arm, dragging him towards the light. With the tip of his halberd he removed the hood and looked him straight in the eyes. This resulted in d’Artaganan and Porthos both grabbing the pommel of their swords.

Aramis knew it instantaneously; he was recognized. He shared a quick look with Athos before both of them pushed the first two guards away. Suddenly everything went so quickly and before he knew it Aramis was pinched to the wall by one of the men, pushing the edge of a halberd in his neck. In the same time Porthos had drawn his sword and punched down one of the three guards, who fell to the floor, unconscious. D’Artagnan and Athos both had the point of their swords at the chest of the second man, who clenched onto his halberd with his dear life.

‘Drop your swords, or he dies! I know who you are, I know who this is… and we won’t let you escape.’ The man urged, as he pushed the halberd a little deeper in Aramis’ neck, blood seeping out onto the iron. Aramis grunted as he tried to gasp for air. The man turned his face towards him as he pushed his full weight against Aramis’ chest. A fierce look in his eyes showed no remorse. ‘YOU, are a deadman!’ He yelled at close range to Aramis, who closed his eyes, expecting the worst.

A dull thump was heard as he felt the iron leave his neck and the weight release his chest. Aramis opened his eyes and was glad to meet those of Porthos’. He grinned at him as he placed his hand on his neck, blood was still spilling, though not much, to his relief.

‘Drop your weapon!’ Athos implored to the last man standing. He obeyed greedily as he let his halberd fall to the floor.

‘Good, now turn around and run away quickly.’ D’Artagnan added, as he used his sword to make the man turn on his heel. He smiled as he watched the man run into a street.

‘Wow, you really knocked them down didn’t you?’ Aramis asked Porthos as he knelled by the body of the man who had almost killed him a minute ago.

Porthos shrugged in response. ‘I could’ve killed them, but I didn’t, did I?’

Aramis glared at him, while checking the pulse of the man at his feet.

‘Did I?...’ Porthos asked, almost afraid of the answer. Aramis gave him a serious look.

‘Aramis!’ Yelled Athos sternly. ‘Stop fooling around…’

Aramis laughed as he stood up, laying a hand on Porthos’ shoulder. ‘Of course you didn’t, you big brute! I was just curious at your response. That’s all.’

‘You son of a ….!’ Porthos yelled back at him as they walked towards the horses. D’Artagnan quickly followed, giving Aramis a big smile.

‘Glad to so you’re feeling better.’ He laughed at Aramis, as he playfully punched Porthos in his side.

‘Gentlemen!’ Athos implored, hoping to get back to business. ‘We don’t have much time! Grab a horse so we can leave!’

And without any more delays the four of them mounted their horses, Porthos helping Aramis to get in his saddle.

‘So, where do we go?’ d’Artagnan asked while adjusting his reins.

‘We leave Paris at Vincennes. After that, it’s a four hour ride to our destination, a village called Meaux. There is a cottage we can use there, according to Bazin.’ Athos explained as they spurred their horses and crossed the first bridge leading into the Bois the Vincennes.

* * *

_So, there you go! leaving Paris!_

_What comes next? (I'm still figuring that out myself too) XD_

_Please review, follow. I much appreciate your responses!_

_Thank you!_


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